


Ave Maria

by floor20



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Religious Guilt, Self-Destruction, basically ronan is using sex as a self-harm method, cause we process thru inflicting trauma on our faves like adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 16:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floor20/pseuds/floor20
Summary: Kavinsky was okay-- wanting Adam meant something else.





	Ave Maria

Kavinsky is thrusting sloppily into Ronan’s mouth. Ronan is more focused on how much his knees hurt.  _ When did this become routine? _ The answer to that is hazy-- was it two months ago? Four? Nights like these, Ronan is disconnected from time, floating in an ocean of red lights and gas station lights and dashboard lights. Kavinsky is moaning above him, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the back of Ronan’s head-- his hair is too short for him to grab, so he ends up just leaving angry red lines on the back of his scalp. Ronan’s not even doing anything, just kneeling there with his mouth open. He knows it makes Kavinsky angry that he’s not doing any work, makes him fuck his throat faster and rougher. He does, and Ronan focuses on breathing through his nose. 

_ Is he almost done? _ This question is answered almost immediately-- Kavinsky lets out a moan of “ _ Lynch _ ” and comes down his throat. His hips continue to stutter for a few moments afterwards and Ronan actually closes his lips around him now, sucking until Kavinsky cries out in pain from the overstimulation and shoves him backwards. Ronan just barely manages to catch himself on his hands and he stays there, catching his breath and watching Kavinsky stuff his cock back in his pants. Kavinsky stares at him, and Ronan stares back, never one to back down from a challenge. Suddenly Kavinsky is lunging forward, and Ronan braces himself for a punch, but is pulled up by the shirt. Kavinsky moves his face towards Ronan’s--  _ is he? _ \-- and spits into Ronan’s half-open mouth. 

“Faggot.” He whispers it with such malice, like he wasn’t just moaning his name and fucking his mouth. He let go of Ronan’s shirt and this time Ronan doesn't catch himself in time, falls back onto the gravel and just lies there as Kavinsky gets into the car and drives away. 

_ This is what you deserve. This is what sex is like for people like you. This is what you are. _

He’s achingly hard. 

Gansey is up when Ronan trudges back into Monmouth. He looks up at him through his wireframes and Ronan can’t stand the pity in his gaze. He burns with shame.

“Fuck off.” Punctuates it with a slammed door. He can hear a sigh through the door, theatrically loud, and he flings himself onto his bed. He’s still hard but he ignores it, running his tongue over his teeth like there might be a trace of sugar-acid spit left on them.  _ It was almost a kiss. _

  
  


_ “Hail Mary full of grace…” _

Kavinsky has him bent over his kitchen counter and is fucking his fingers in and out of him when Skov comes wandering in.

“Nice, dude. What’d you have to slip him to get him to let you?” He hears the fridge open and close.

“Nothing, he just wants it that bad.”

Ronan’s eyes are fixed on the backsplash. Someone did a bad job lining up two sections of tile, and now that he’s looked at it for this long, he can’t believe that they got away with leaving it like that. 

“Wanna try him out?”

_ Honestly, where was the pride in your craft? _

“Sure, man.” Ronan feels an unfamiliar finger push into him and he focuses on not reacting.  __

_ All these McMansions are produced as fast and cheaply as possible and then sold for ridiculous amounts of money. _ He hears a zipper unzipping from behind him, and a Coke can is placed on the counter next to his head. The blunt head of a penis is pressing against his hole and he closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax.

  
  


_ “...the Lord is with thee…” _

Gansey looks at Ronan with confusion on his brow when Kavinsky’s pack howls after him at school.

“What’s with them?”

“What’s not with them?” Ronan is a little sickened with how smoothly the words come to him-- they’re not a lie, but they’re as good as. Maybe the sickness has something to do with the memory of Swan biting down on his shoulder hard enough to draw blood two nights ago. Maybe the sickness is from the pang of arousal he feels at the memory.

  
  


_ “...Blessed are thou among women…” _

Ronan feels like he’s watching the scene from above himself. He’s so tired. Kavinsky is fucking him, again. He can barely feel it.

“You know, I still can’t decide if I like fucking you before everyone else gets a shot at you--” He sounds like he’s talking through a tunnel. “--or if I prefer you loose and sloppy, like this.” Kavinsky pulls out and pushes back in slowly, to emphasise the wet noise. Jiang laughs from somewhere else in the room. Ronan can’t remember how many times someone’s come inside him tonight. Five? Six? He knows they all had fucked him tonight but he thinks maybe Prokopenko had gone twice. He knows Kavinsky did, coked-up monster that he was.

_ When did I start wanting this _ ? 

“My pretty little fucktoy.” From above, he can see Kavinsky get ready to slam into him, wrapping long, thin hands around his throat. There’s cum coating his ass and thighs.

_ When did I stop wanting this? _

Kavinsky slams back in and hits his prostate as he does, sending Ronan hurtling back into his body as he moans. 

  
  


“ _...and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus… _ ”

Adam and he had gotten into a fight. They were always fighting, or about to fight, or shakily recovering from a fight. Adam, in all his delicate beauty, looked like an angel in the late-afternoon sunlight, and it had set off Ronan. 

Kavinsky was okay. Kavinsky was a knife to cut himself with, and a bottle to flood himself with. Wanting Adam meant something else. Wanting Adam-

He had fled to Kavinsky’s embrace after their fight, and hadn’t even made it back to Monmouth that night. Instead, he stumbled out of Kavinsky’s Evo at their lunch break in a borrowed Aglionby uniform. Adam and Gansey were standing by the Pig as Gansey retrieved the books for his next class. They stared at Ronan, mouths wearing a near identical expression of disapproval. Kavinsky cackled and drove off. Gansey muttered something to Adam and strode away, clearly angry.

“What jumped up your dick?” Gansey ignored his shout.

“He’s mad that you disappeared, Ronan. He lives with you. He notices when you don’t come home.”

“It’s not like it’s anything new.”

“That’s the problem.”

“Fuck off.”

“Why do you let them do it to you?” Adam’s face was a lake of calm, an ocean of calm, but Ronan knew jealousy and it was lurking in the undercurrents of his voice. He felt a fierce, terrible joy. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Everyone knows you’re letting them fuck you.” The word  _ fuck _ , in that sentence, was ugly and unsuited to Adam Parrish’s mouth. “You’re fooling yourself if you think this is a healthy way to explore your sexuality.”

The joy was gone.

“What do  _ you _ know, Parrish?” The skin tightened around Adam’s eyes.

“That you need to apologize to Gansey.” 

“Piss up a rope.”

“You might want to do up your collar.” Adam walked away, leaving Ronan to glance at his reflection in a car mirror. His collarbone was marred by a livid bite mark. 

  
  


“... _ Holy Mary Mother of God… _ ”

Kavinsky pulled up beside Ronan in a gas station parking lot. He was by himself, and humming with stimulants and excitement. Ronan had texted for him to meet him here. Ronan inhaled deeply and pressed his head to the steering wheel. Kavinsky rapped at the window and he rolled it down.

“Hey, princess, you that horny for it?”

“We’re breaking up.”

“What?” Kavinsky is still wearing a cocky grin but it’s slipped a little. 

“Or we’re not doing this anymore. We’re not fucking anymore. I’m done.”

“You can’t just-” Kavinsky seems like he’s at a genuine loss for words. Ronan didn’t expect to feel pity towards him, of all things. “You need us.”

“No, I don’t.” Kavinsky’s face starts to twist into a sneer and he reaches for Ronan, but Ronan doesn’t wait around to find out what the intended conclusion of that action was. He threw the BMW into reverse and started back so quickly that Kavinsky had to jump backwards to avoid having his feet run over. Ronan drives to St. Agnes, feeling strangely desolate. He breaks in, silently and efficiently, and lays in one of the front pews. A statue of the Virgin Mary stares down at him.

Kavinsky wasn’t his boyfriend. Kavinsky had never even kissed him, didn’t fuck him where he could see his face, wasn’t nice to him, or-- it was a shock for Ronan to want someone to be nice to him. For so long, he had only wanted walls to fling himself into. 

Ronan thinks of Adam’s pale dusty eyelashes and closes his eyes.

  
  


__ “... _ Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death... _ ”

Adam’s hair was getting long, and he had taken to pulling it back into a ponytail. Ronan felt like he was melting with affection sometimes, like he would puddle into a goop and sink through the cracks in the floorboards. One of them creaks when Ronan steps on it, and Adam cracks one eye to look at him.

“You’re too dirty to come in, go shower.”

Adam is sprawled across Ronan’s bed, shirtless and ponytailed and sleep-crusted, all long, lean muscles and tan lines and freckles. Ronan is covered in mud. 

“It’s just the pants that are dirty.” Ronan leaves the doorway of his room and peels the offending pants off, leaving them in a heap on the floor. 

“I thought you didn’t lie.”

“I don’t.” He goes to crawl in with Adam.

“No, you’re too sweaty.” Adam pulls him closer in, even while complaining.

“We need to wash these sheets anyway.”

“You’re getting me dirty too.”

“Mm, you can shower with me later.”

Adam tries to give him an exasperated expression, but is already halfway to his mouth. Ronan bridges the last gap and kisses Adam. He has morning breath, but his lips are soft.

“I can’t believe you decided on a job that requires you to get up at the asscrack of dawn.” Ronan trails kisses from Adam’s mouth to under his jaw, savoring the feeling of scruff on his face. When he pulls back, Adam, all sleep-hazed and kiss-drunk, smiles at him. Ronan's chest tightens with happiness.

“I love you.” Adam beams.

“Love you too.” He reaches up towards Ronan’s head and Ronan ducks it agreeably as Adam pulls out a piece of grass and holds it to his face. “Stop bringing grass into the bed though.”

Ronan grabs his hand and kisses the knuckles before Adam uses his grip to drag him down into his arms.

_ Amen. _


End file.
